It is also the source of all activity in the Universe. The Unmoved mover is a force like gravity in the cosmos; everything is the way it is because It compels everything to be that way. Frankly, it is because IT is.

Aristitilian philosophy is easy to understand and is obviously influenced by Plato, even if the two didn't agree. Plato's Allegory of the Cave was contradicted by Aristotle's philosophies for most of Aristotle's life.

In conclusion, according to Aristotle the best form in life is happiness. He argued that happiness is best achieved by living in accordance with our nature, by fulfilling what it means to be human. Since we are by nature multi-directional, true happiness is linked to the very best within us. Aristotle believed that contemplation fit that description almost perfectly. Of course, there are several reasons Aristotle thinks that contemplation is the truest form of human being. The first of his reasons is that contemplation is the most full expression of our humanity. We can also engage in reason continuously, even with life's other engagements. Thirdly, rational contemplation is self-sufficient; we only need ourselves to be able to think.

However, logical as the premise of this argument seems, the conclusion (that every event is dependent on another, causal event) seems as surely illogical. In order to avoid an infinite regress, Aristotle theorized that there must be a great "first cause" that is subordinate to no prior event; the cause for eveything without cause, or, the unmoved mover.

She sits on the bottom step in front of her home as workmen carry furniture and boxes past her. Her elbows rest on her knees, the heels of her hands on her temples, her fingers laced across the back of her head. She seems merely to be staring at the ground. The perceptive might notice the occassional appearance of a small salty puddle below her downturned face.

Why is she crying? How else could you expect her to cope with the events of the past few days? The shock, the betrayal, the humiliation, and, cruelest of all, the loss. A thousand different versions of the past week run through her head, as if she hopes she could find some thread which would explain how quickly everything she thought her life had been came crashing down about her.

She is so deeply absorbed in this hypothetical world that she does not notice the shadow as it falls across her. Eventually her reverie is broken by the impatient tapping of a scuffed boot on the ground before her. Slowly she turns her red-rimmed eyes to stare back at the man who would rob the warmth of the sun from her.

"Could'ja get off the porch and get outta our way. Yer really slowin' us down, lady."